


naar

by unorgaynized



Category: The Daevabad Trilogy - S. A. Chakraborty
Genre: F/F, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:14:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24160381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unorgaynized/pseuds/unorgaynized
Summary: Zaynab burns.
Relationships: Zaynab al Qahtani/Aqisa
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	naar

Zaynab burns.

It was not as if she was usually envious of others, particularly women. It was not as if she’s unused to letting her desires go unquenched. She was the Ayaanle Al-Qahtani, after all, the princess who could barely speak Geziriyya to her father’s own people.

She was only just enough Ayaanle for her mother’s tribe, and never Geziri enough for the tribe of her brothers’. Ali, who surpassed her in height when he was only twelve, had returned after his years in their Geziri homeland, pious as he has always been, scarred and taller, stronger and still unsure of himself. With him was a man who joked and called him brother, teased him to relaxation, an honor that she had only seen with Mutandhir, one she has not had since she was taller.

With them was....

_She_ was Geziri to her bones, sharp-featured and sunburnt, her arms strong and her hands sure and calloused and scarred. Her braids are bound behind her, in a fighter’s practical tie. 

Never had Zaynab been interested in her brother’s shiny tools before. Khanjars and zulfiqaris alike held little interest for her— it would not have been approved of, so she had forgotten them and gave herself to the woman’s world of bladed words andedged schemings. 

But Aqisa hasn’t been a fixture in her father’s court. Aqisa hadn’t been there, her hands burning through Zaynab’s silks as she casually adjusted her balance, her body hotly pressed to Zaynab’s own back.

Zaynab was the princess. She should stop it at any time, say that it had gone on too far, that it was improper for the lessons to take this turn. She couldn’t though, fixed to this burning that was new inside her. She was a river, diverted to a new course, shaping itself with the detritus of her former banks.

She couldn’t say that it must stop. And Aqisa knew, though she never pushed it, her hands never a drop higher or lower than they ought to be, never lingering longer than was proper, leaving Zaynab burning for her, burning for more.

It was only when Aqisa’s hands were off her, as Aqisa would pass her her own khanjar, letting her fingertips brush Zaynab’s, that she would let Zaynab know it was not unrequited. Aqisa was warrior-trained, taught to never let her eyes give way the direction she was to head, yet Aqisa did so all the same, letting her grey gaze boldly linger down the hidden lines of Zaynab’s form, trace the lines of her face.

Zaynab had grown up in the harem and knew what woman looked like when they wanted. She’d toyed with it enough herself, read it in the Banu Nahida enough to know some things were simply universal, regardless of upbringing.

And Aqisa wanted her. She would never say it, though she would leave the hints and clues, let Zaynab make whatever she wanted, and do as she wished.

So Zaynab twisted about, and pressed her lips to Aqisa’s, ignoring all of what she knew about propriety. And as Aqisa kissed back, one of her strong hands wrapped around Zaynab’s, Zaynab knew she never wanted to stop her burning.


End file.
